Modernday Shakepeare
by d-E-a-D-12349876-a-C-c-O-u-N-t
Summary: Rukia gets revenge on Ichigo when he runied her Chappie Chappy doll. The best type of revenge: steal his poetry book. Little did she know that there was more to Ichigo than meets the eye. Slight IchiRuki, but I am in love with the couple. Enjoy!


Rukia Kuchiki truly _was_ a heartless person. But you couldn't blame her for this, you had to blame Ichigo. It was _his_ fault that he had stabbed her Chappie doll multiple times with Yuzu's kitchen knife, so it was _his_ fault that she stole his book filled with poems. He had tried to cleverly hide it with all of his Shakespeare books, but she had watched him write in it multiple times before, so she couldn't be tricked by camouflage. Ichigo thought he was clever, Rukia _knew_ she was evil.

She had always wondered what deep dark secrets was in his book. Perhaps a crush... Rukia's fingers trembled with excitement as she slowly opened the pages. It wasn't written in sloppy handwriting, his Japanese was very neat. It used old English terms like 'shan't' or 'ye'. She knew he was smart, but she didn't know that he was a poet. The poems weren't corny either. They were thoughtfully made, each word corresponding perfectly with its predecessor. She couldn't believe it, she _wouldn't_ believe it. This wasn't the Ichigo that scowled and could care less if he cursed in every sentence. _This_ Ichigo had a deep personality, able to portray his emotions clearly on a piece of paper.

She read on, her mind attempting to catch every detail of every word. She didn't know how to describe it--Ichigo Kurosaki was a modern-day Shakespeare!

Her imagination flowed, trying to grasp who this "Violet" might be. She certainly didn't know anyone named Violet, and she was pretty sure that Ichigo didn't either. Then again, she didn't think that he was smart enough to write poetry, too. Ichigo was different, but in a good way.

She couldn't comprehend how someone who acted as if the only things that he cared about was protecting his loved ones and swinging his zanpakto around like a maniac could actually write a poem this good. And it wasn't just one poem, it was _every_ poem. The book wasn't filled, but each poem had a date on it. Rukia knew that it stood for the date that modern-day Shakespeare wrote it. She wasn't ready to admit that he was smarter than she was, but inside she knew that he was more thoughtful than she was. There was more to Ichigo than meets the eye. Rukia thought that when she first saw him that he was a meathead with a hero complex. But she had learned that he meant every word that he said. He _would_ protect his friends, even if it hurt him in the process.

He was a man that stood by his word. Rukia could lie and say that he had no idea what he was talking about half of the time, but she could tell that he knew exactly what he meant. She wouldn't call him Sherlock Holmes, but he wasn't an idiot. There was just one thing wrong with him--he didn't know good art when he saw it. Rukia was a master artist, perfectly capturing the details of every picture...in her mind. To Ichigo, al Rukia would draw was a horde of whacked-up bunnies that were begging to die.

Rukia could feel a tear coming to her eye. She wiped it, realizing that she actually was sad during his poems. They were beautiful, and they weren't just a bunch of dead words on a piece of paper. They had meaning, but you had to look into them to find out their purpose. The poems were tricky, but they had a feel about them. They were soothing and comforting, they wrapped you tightly around, making you want to read more. A perfect word to describe the poems was 'beckoning'. It didn't beg for you to read, it commanded.

The again, Ichigo wasn't a begging type of person. He was someone who took charge of a situation, immediately becoming leader. He commanded those around him to do as he said. He made mistakes, but everyone did that. He was a good poet, but a better leader.

He was confident in what he did, refusing to give up even when knocked down. He wouldn't let someone get in the way of his goals, he'd push them aside. He had an assertive way about him.

Rukia hadn't even noticed when Ichigo slipped into his room, peering over her shoulder. His eyes widened when he noticed what was in her hands. How could she have found it? Kuchiki Rukia was indeed a force to be reckoned with, but Kurosaki Ichigo didn't give up too easily.

"Hey midget, what're you reading?" he asked cooly, causing her body to tense up. She spun around to stare at her worst nightmare. She could pretend that she wasn't scared and act all cool, but he could see the fear rising in her eyes.

"As you c-can plainly s-see, I'm re-reading...a book," Rukia finished strongly, attempting to hold on to any of the Kuchiki pride that still remained. He wasn't fazed. He didn't even flinch, not even when she gave him the evil-eye.

"_What_ are you reading?" he asked firmly.

"A book about poetry," she said. He was winning, but she would fight. She wouldn't let an idiot...er...poet like Ichigo win the argument so easily. She would at _least_ give him a swift kick to the shin before she gave up. He would suffer. She would have her revenge.

"Who wrote the book?"

"A fruit."

"What kind of fruit?"

"A stupid fruit."

"What's the fruit's name?"

"Strawberry."

She didn't break easily. She would come back with cocky answers when he would ask a question. She was a tough cookie, but a bit of milk _always_ softens them up. Problem: he didn't have any milk.

"Where does the strawberry live?"

"In a town."

"What kind of town?"

"A big town."

This would go on for hours.

"What's the Strawberry's name?"

He had her. How would she be able to win this one? The it hit her. She had one of two choices. She picked the one that would catch him the most off guard.

"Modern-day Shakespeare."

This took him back. Where had she gotten _that_ from? He knew that she had his poem book, but he definitely wasn't any Shakespeare. Rukia smiled. She could feel him breaking. All she needed was for him to put up the invisible white flag.

"Give me my book."

"What book?"

Back to the old Q&A. It would take a while to get to the head of the argument. And even if he got there, he could feel a hard kick coming from an irate midget. She stared at him, expecting him to give in. But he didn't.

"That book."

"Which book?"

"MY book."

"This book?" she gestured toward the small book. Ichigo gave a curt nod.

"No." She had said it so calmly, Ichigo didn't even have time to double-take. "I'll give it to you, _IF_ you answer my question." This was his only chance. She was probably gonna ask something tricky like "What is the capital of Turkey?"

"Fine."

"Who is 'Violet'."

It was simple. Simple but embarrassing. He didn't know how many times she would kick him for this, but he needed his book back.

"Rukia." She immediately stood there in shock. He couldn't tell whether it was good or bad. She gave a slight smile and slid the book over to him.

"You know, if I ever meet Shakespeare, I'll tell him he's got a run for his money."

Ichigo blushed and looked at the ground. "Thanks." She walked over to him and gave him a slight peck to the cheek.

"Good night, Shakespeare."

"Go-good night, Violet."

**A.N.: Okay, I thought it was okay, but the idea's been in my head for a while so I decided to write about it. The description about Ichigo was **_**really**_** boring, but tell me how you liked it. Thanks!**


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